


The First Faire

by lighthouse



Series: Two of Them [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 2nd person POV, Emotional Recovery, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Relationship Study, Slice of Life, ambiguous WoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouse/pseuds/lighthouse
Summary: You sit on a large green and white leaf-printed beach blanket on the warm sands of Costa Del Sol, hands clasped in your lap and face locked in an expression of concerned bemusement as you watch your two favorite miqo’te tiptoe, jump, and clamber their way up the precarious Moonfire Faire tower.This was supposed to be a vacation, but so far it has proven anything but relaxing...A follow up story to "Two of Them", in which WoL, G'raha, and the Exarch have their first real chance to spend some time together.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Two of Them [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869175
Comments: 27
Kudos: 62





	1. The sun beats down upon your trials...

You sit on a large green and white leaf-printed beach blanket on the warm sands of Costa Del Sol, hands clasped in your lap and face locked in an expression of concerned bemusement as you watch your two favorite miqo’te tiptoe, jump, and clamber their way up the precarious Moonfire Faire tower. 

This was supposed to be a vacation, your first real chance to relax and spend some time together after the rigors of being called off to fight the Sapphire Weapon. Granted, the day trip on the airship went well enough, but once you’d actually arrived at the front you’d been hauled off into action first thing. The Exarch was still recovering from his journey across the Rift and did not feel confident enough to fight beside you (or so he claimed), and G’raha had enough self-awareness to realize that he would not be a match for such an opponent. Privately, you were disappointed--you’d brought them along to join, not watch--but you understood their hesitation. 

He didn’t say as much, but you got the impression that your elder love might have picked up his bow and stood beside you were it not for the lesser experience of his younger self. Whether or not that was the correct course you could not say--were you to fight together without G’raha, no doubt he would accept with as much grace as he could muster, yet in truth feel left out and extraneous...just as you swore to him that he was not. On the other hand, the younger miqo’te was shrewd, and probably knew on some level that the Exarch’s fatigue was just an excuse to spare his feelings, which also was not ideal. 

And so it was that in the awkward silence on the way back to the Ala Mhigan Quarter, you suggested an excursion to Costa del Sol to enjoy the yearly summer festivities, to regroup and have some time for the three of you to sort yourselves out a bit. Both of them perked their ears right up at the suggestion, and so you had Tataru send ahead and make reservations. After a quick round of packing (as neither of them had much in the way of possessions) and a good night’s sleep at the Rising Stones, you set off for Costa del Sol first thing in the morning.

...Where once again things got awkward, because you then found that the younger Raha adamantly did not want his part of the cottage rentals paid for by other people--especially you and his elder self. 

He also did not have a gil to his name.

The Exarch was already a Scion and had been granted a rather tidy startup account, considering all he’d done toward saving the Source. G’raha however was yet to receive any official status, and refused to accept money before having a designated position. Despite your attempts to reason with him about his own part in saving the Source, he would not suffer either of you to pay, and firmly excused himself to go and take some quick leves. Dismayed, you were glad you had the presence of mind to ask Tataru to reserve two accommodations, just in case something went awry on the trip and one of you needed time alone. 

It was only after he’d been gone for a bell or so that it dawned on you that quite possibly he didn’t  _ want  _ to rent a cottage together with you and the Exarch.

“Ah, no, probably not,” the former caretaker agreed ruefully when you brought the question up with him. “If I were him…” He paused, raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Er, if I were him, in this situation I’d want to rent my own rooms...he’ll probably take the other cottage for himself. There’s still...quite a bit to consider, after all, and you and I...the nature of our relationship is different to the one you have with him,” he explained, a blush rising to highlight his freckles as he gave you a suggestive nudge. 

You could read between the lines well enough to gather that he meant to have you over these next few days--and more than once at that--which would probably be uncomfortable if all three of you were under one roof, seeing as how you both got a little...vocal. In comparison, you’d done nothing more than hold hands with G’raha a few times, and you’re not entirely certain the nature of your relationship will ever progress beyond that simple intimacy. 

At least he was happily spinning his own set of keys on one finger upon his midday return, tracking sand into your breezy living room and beaming as he presented you both with festive floral pareos. You watched with a poorly stifled grin as the Exarch stared down at the bright crimson offering and decorative armbands, then tucked the clothes under his arm and offered gracious thanks, clearly resigned to his fate. Gifts successfully presented, the scholar then excitedly held forth about the tower climbing contest at the beach, how he’d always wanted to attempt such a course. You and the Exarch shared a strained smile behind his back when he turned to rummage in his pack for the flyer--honestly you’d just hoped to go down to the food stalls and have a relaxing lunch, then lounge around on the beach for a spell. 

He was just  _ so  _ enthusiastic though, ears flicking and tail swishing, that neither of you had the heart to turn him down. 

So he went next door to his cottage to get changed, and once you’d donned your pareo you took great delight in helping your elder love into his. Not that he needed it, but what a lovely chance it proved to ‘accidentally’ let your hands brush over pale, freckled skin, to hear him gasp the one time you skirted your fingertips over his clothed length when you reached over to pull the bright fabric close and knot it at his hip. 

He’d regarded you then with narrowed eyes that flicked appreciatively over your own semi-clad form.

“Do you want me in these clothes or out of them?” he’d asked mischievously.

“Oh, both,” you’d answered, stepping back to admire how  _ good _ he looked at his ease in such attire. There was no time for the latter of his suggestions, however, and so arm in arm you headed outside to where the scholar was waiting, grinning and roguishly handsome in his pareo of deep green. You felt yourself blushing as you looked at the two of them, and wondered what you were going to do with yourself if you were to be faced with this every day from now on.

You’d assumed that you’d be doing the obstacle course together, until you’d reached the entry counter and made the stupid comment about the hat.

It turned out that this year there were lovely, meticulously woven floral straw hats being offered as the prize for reaching the tower summit. It was a beautiful hat. You wanted it. And declared as much in front of the two of them.

And so now, you find yourself relegated to the sand bar, a spectator in their contest to see who will be the first to reach the top and offer you the coveted prize. 

Well, to be absolutely fair it was G’raha who suggested the spar, but the way the Exarch’s grin sharpened around the edges at the challenge, you don’t think he minded too much. 

Better them than you though, you think to yourself as you sip at your tangy rolanberry umbrella drink and watch them carefully navigate a maze of elevated beams near the summit, arms spread wide and tails stiff for balance, pareos rolled up and stuffed into their knotted waistbands.You are not surprised to find them a near match, and close your eyes as you work out how to respond when one of them inevitably brings you the prize. If it’s the Exarch who wins you know you’ll be anxious about how G’raha would feel about losing...and you’re going to have to work on that, because the younger miqo’te won’t appreciate the sentiment. On the other hand, if G’raha wins you’ll have an easier time accepting, because most likely your elder love will just shrug off the loss with a smile. 

When you open your eyes, you see G’raha just climbing the ladder to the summit, and you’re surprised with how your heart leaps at the idea of his victory. Although, scanning about, you can’t see the Exarch anywhere--did he win, after all? But no, G’raha is joyfully waving the hat at you and looking very pleased with himself. Then where…?

You shoot to your feet with sudden realization, heart in your throat as your eyes search the waters at the bottom of the course. That’s a long way to fall, even for you, and he’s still getting used to his new physical form. You’ve launched into a dash for the tower before you fully realize what’s happening, fear and adrenaline adding an extra burst of speed to your pace. Just as you reach the water’s edge you see him, and are faint with relief to find that he’s making his way to shore under his own power. He waves when he sees you, offers an embarrassed smile as he approaches. 

“I fell off,” he says simply, and you are dumbfounded when he breaks into laughter, free and easy, his braid half undone and soaked pareo sticking to his legs. “What?” he asks when he sees your face. “I’m certainly not the first one to fall--look, there goes one now,” he says, jerking his thumb back at a roegadyn man who has just tumbled down nearby with a terrific splash. 

For once it is you fidgeting with your fingers as you suddenly come to realize how worried you are for him, how much you don’t understand what this new body means for his capabilities. You shouldn’t have been so frightened--after all, you yourself have tumbled off the same platform numerous times and were fine. Despite its terrifying appearance, the course  _ was _ designed with some modicum of safety in mind. 

“Well, well, look who’s got the hat and who’s a drowned cat…!” the scholar’s voice crows, and when you turn to look at him he’s already reaching out to place the prize on your head--but something in your face makes him falter, and he pulls back, smile fading as he looks from you to the Exarch. “Is...is everything...are you alright?” he fumbles, and you groan internally. 

“We’re fine, I just had a bit of a fright,” you answer, doing your best to summon a bright smile. “It appears that you’ve won!”

“...Aye. Yes! It seems so,” he replies, struggling for his former enthused bravado and failing mightily. “I got you your hat,” he adds hastily, holding it out to you as though he’s only just remembered again that he has it. Your heart calms as you reach out and take the offering, making a show of cinching the string under your chin and tilting your head from side to side to test the fit. 

“It’s perfect! Thank you,” you say, genuinely warmed with the knowledge that he wanted so badly to win it for you, his contest with the Exarch aside.

“Congratulations, it was finely done,” your love says amicably at your side.You watch as the blush in the scholar’s cheeks darkens, his ears canted back as he looks to the ground with narrowed eyes. 

“...Thanks,” he answers at length, then gives himself a shake and makes an obvious effort to face the two of you. “I hazard you’ll be wanting to get changed,” he says, motioning to his elder self. “I’ll wait down by the blankets, if you two would like to go for a bit. I’ll see about getting some snacks.” You’re aware that you’re being dismissed and that he probably wants time to think about whatever’s on his mind, but can’t resist saying,

“You go on ahead, I’ll be along in a moment,” to the former caretaker. He accepts and nods without question, then turns to make his way up the water-worn wooden planks leading to the cottages. When you turn back to look at the scholar, his closed off body language suggests that you were probably correct in your earlier assessment. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go,” you reassure, “I’m just making sure you’re okay.” 

“I was an arse,” he says bluntly. “I didn’t even consider the possibility that he might not be up for it, and I didn’t care when he fell either. All I could think about was winning, that I wanted to do better than him.” You blink at the candor but appreciate his honesty. 

“Well, if you’d fallen he’d have probably laughed, so there’s that,” you reason, and he gives a weak laugh.

“Perhaps so, but still, I find my character may be in need of some improvement,” he says in a shamed voice, looking away as he rubs at his arm. “I need some time,” comes the quieter, apologetic request, and you nod. 

“Alright, we’ll come down and meet you in a bell or so. And Raha? Really, if you just need a few bells or a day or two or what have you to yourself, it’s okay. I know it’s been a lot to deal with this past week or so.” When he nods at you with a sad smile you feel some part of what you’ve said was wrong, but there’s nothing to be done for it now except turn up the path and go back to the cottage to meet your love...and pick up some dry clothes for him on the way.

As you enter you are greeted with the sight of his bare arse as he struggles to shimmy out of his drenched pareo, and you would be lying if you said that didn’t cheer you just a little bit. 

“Gods, was I always...so...tiresome,” he says with effort as he finally kicks away the wet clothes. 

“Be nice,” you chide as you make your way over to help him pull off the armbands. “You were enjoying yourself up there, don’t pretend as though you weren’t.”

“Yes,” he acknowledges, awkwardly reaching up with one arm to undo his wet braid, “and I fully intended to win, but…” You look to him questioningly as he trails off, and he sighs.

“I’m afraid I had a bit of a dizzy spell. It’s nothing serious!” he says quickly as your eyes give away your alarm. “I am yet adjusting to my new form, and to not having the Tower to draw on as I had before. Trust me when I say that the trade-off is worth it, I just need to...temper my enthusiasm a bit, until I’ve recovered and better understand my limits. Now,” he says, clearly wishing to change the topic, “I fear there’s salt and sand in places I didn’t know I had...would you care to join me for a wash?” he asks innocently enough, though his tail has flicked up to wrap around your thigh.

You are duly distracted.

The two of you are…a little over a bell getting back to the beach, freshly washed and alight with the sweetness of afterglow, you back in your pareo and the Exarch looking much more comfortable in his new blue floral shirt and khaki shorts. You hope it’s not too obvious what you’ve been up to, though come to think you probably shouldn’t be trying to hide this new, exciting facet of your reality. 

The scholar is nowhere to be seen as you arrive back at your beach towel, so your love kisses you and wanders over to the stalls in search of food. After some consideration you head out to rent a beach umbrella...it’s still a couple bells before dark and the sun beating down from the sparsely clouded blue sky is just this side of uncomfortably hot. When you return the Exarch is setting down a basket of castella cakes and miq’abobs, and you smile when you see he’s bought your favorite yearly lemonade as well. Together you set up the umbrella, then settle in the shade to enjoy your snacks.

What a life this is, you think to yourself as you sip your perfectly sweetened lemonade and look to his peaceful expression as he gazes out over the waves and the breeze blows back his silvery hair. You can hear festival music starting further down the beach, punctuated with the cries of gulls and the gentle lapping of the waves, the laughter of people enjoying a peace that you have helped to make possible. In all your time as the Warrior of Light and Darkness, in all your travels to distant lands, you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt so blessed and happy as you are in this moment. He looks to you with a gentle smile, and your breath stutters as you realize that you want this forever, that there’s a question you’re going to want to ask eventually. 

Approaching footsteps draw you out of your reverie, and you just register the hesitancy on the younger miqo’te’s face before he smooths it over and smiles at you, holding something furtively behind his back. 

Gods, how difficult this must be on him, to constantly have to witness how much you and the Exarch love one another. You need to make some time for him. No, not just need, it’s not obligation...You  _ want _ to spend time with him, just don’t know how to make him understand that your love for the Exarch does not take away from your love for him. 

You blink as he flips another hat out from behind his back and slams it down on your surprised love’s head.

“Got this for you,” he says, stepping back to inspect the two of you. “You match! How about that, it suits you both,” he declares, then unceremoniously plops down at your side and looks to the ocean so that he doesn’t have to face you. 

“...Thank you, the sun was getting a bit bright for my taste,” the elder miqo’te says after he’s recovered from his astonishment, no doubt recognizing an apology when he sees it. The hat _does_ look good on him, the crimson flowers bringing out his eyes—it reminds you of the floral crowns that children used to give him in the Crystarium. 

“What about you?” you ask the scholar, turning to face him. “Would you like a hat, too?” He turns to you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What, me?” he asks, as though he’d never even considered the notion. Perhaps he truly hadn’t.

“Sure. I’ll get one for you, I haven’t climbed the course yet this year,” you offer. His eyes widen, and he blushes as he looks away, ears pinned.

“S’fine, I don’t need that rubbish,” he mutters, then looks to you again with alarm. “That’s not what I...It looks really good on you, just..I don’t need it,” he says quietly, turning his eyes back out to the sea. You suppress a frown as you look over his conflicted profile, shift as the Exarch presses meaningful fingertips against yours. 

Does he really not want it, or is he drawing a line in the sand between himself and the two of you on purpose? 

“Well, this old man could do with a nap,” the elder miqo’te announces. “Swimming, sun, and a full stomach does wear one out, after all. You’re welcome to join me if you like,” he says, patting your leg as he lies back on the blanket and pulls the hat down over his face. Pretty transparent, you think, but you’re grateful that he’s providing you with a clear opportunity. 

“Thanks, but I’m not that tired,” you answer with amusement, then start when you receive a purring snore in reply. 

At least this way the younger Seeker won’t be able to question his motives overmuch. 

“So, what shall we do?” you ask, and he looks to you thoughtfully, as though he’s not sure if he wants to ask for anything.

“...Do you fancy a swim?” he finally requests with a tentative smile, and you nod happily, already moving to take off your hat and pareo. It seems such a waste to come to the beach and not go in the water, after all. 

For a while you swim in companionable silence, floating side by side, diving down to appreciate the flowing seaweed and point out colorful tropical fish to one another. You are surprised with how at home he looks in the water, all grace and lithe muscles, careful as he skirts the coral formations so as not to damage them. When next you come up for air and he shakes back his red hair, his grin touching his emerald eyes, there is no mistaking the way your heart flutters. 

Oh, how you love him, and you don’t know what to do. 

He looks away, then back to you, jerks his head toward a sandy islet in the distance.

“Care to race?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge. You nod enthusiastically, pleased with his renewed high spirits and keeping your clever comments to yourself lest you say something foolish. 

On the count of three, you are both off, breast-stroking powerfully through the waves. You want to look to him and take the time to appreciate his form as he cuts through the water, but he’s  _ fast _ , and you don’t have time if you’re to take the competition seriously. Still, in the back of your mind you can’t help being surprised at his prowess..the morbol, the climbing tower, and now this. Not bad for a fellow who just spent five years sleeping.

You reach the shallows at the same time, but he is the first to stumble up onto the banks—the clear victor. If you weren’t panting so hard you’d be incredulous—truly you’d thought to have this in the bag with all the swimming you’ve had to do, and the blessing of the Kojin besides. His sheer stubbornness is not to be taken lightly, you realize once more, not in him nor the elder version of himself. When he reaches out a hand to help you onto the bank you take it...and gasp as he wraps an arm around your waist and swirls you in a circle, laughing with delight, skin flushed with exertion and eyes sparkling as they meet yours.

“Oh Azeyma, I still lo-” he begins breathlessly, then falters, eyes widening as he realizes what he was about to say, how tightly he is holding you. Quickly he lets his arms drop, then crouches down to sit where you’ve both ended up under the shade of the isle’s single clump of palms. 

You stare down at him for a moment, bewildered with the rapid changes in mood, then carefully move to sit next to him. 

“Don’t say anything,” he mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning on them, gazing off toward the beach. 

“Raha--” you venture, and he makes a sharp sound in his throat, ears pinned. 

“Please,” he entreats you quietly. Unbidden tears of hurt and frustration threaten to spill, but you blink them away quickly. This is about so much more than just you, and you know it. You can’t help the sigh that escapes as you try to calm yourself, however, and he gives a guilty shift, swallows audibly. “Forgive me, I’m sorry I’m like this,” he murmurs, and you know better than to say that it’s okay. Instead you settle for sidling a little closer, and briefly close your eyes with relief when his tail flicks over to rest gingerly against your backside. His cheeks color a bit and his ears give a twitch, but he says nothing, and neither do you. 

You sit for a while in companionable silence, giving yourselves time to wind down and relax.

“Did you let me win?” he asks presently, his expression calmed--though he still does not look at you. 

“No,” you say immediately and firmly. “I gave it my best...I’m a little surprised, to be honest,” you say candidly, because you know he won’t appreciate anything less. 

“Mm. Me too,” he muses, eyebrows drawing together as he frowns. “I’ve always been good at swimming, but not  _ that  _ good. Is...is he good at it, by any chance?” he asks, finally looking at you pensively.

“I...don’t know,” you say slowly. You’d been swimming together a few times in Il Mheg, and once in Rak’tika, but that was just casually paddling about....and enjoying a good excuse to see one another with less clothes on, frankly. 

He hums to himself, tail flicking against your back.

“Ever since I woke up, physical endeavors seem...easier, for lack of a better description. There’s no way I would have made it up that course without falling before, and fighting as I did in the swamps last week? I’m a fine archer, I’ll give myself that, but most of my life I’ve spent focusing on more scholarly pursuits. Something has changed...and I’m not certain if I care for it or not,” he says, leaning back to look up at the palm fronds, hands wandering down to wring water out of his wet tail. You can tell he’s still thinking, and don’t know what to say anyway, so choose the safe route and hold your silence. 

“Did something like this happen to you, when you got the Light’s Blessing? Did you change, I mean,” he asks. You consider for a bit before answering. 

“Not immediately,” you allow, “but certainly, as the years have gone by, more and more events just sort of...warp to my favor, if that makes sense. It’s gotten to the point where even strangers recognize this and request my presence, because just having me around makes things happen,” you say in a low voice. You need to tell him this, not just because it’s the truth, but because you want him to have these thoughts from you, these private worries and concerns. It’s hardly fair to expect him to open up to you if you don’t do the same for him. “I’m changing too, somehow. At this point I’m not entirely certain that I’m winning in my endeavors because I’m a fine warrior, or because of...something else.” 

To his credit he does not leap to insist that you  _ are  _ a fine warrior, merely nods and flicks his damp tail a little closer to you.

“Hell of a thing, isn’t it,” he says after a while, “to be but one thread in the grand tapestry of history, to work on others and to be worked upon in ways that you can’t control or understand. Still,” he concedes, reaching his arms up in a powerful stretch, “life is good. Far better to be alive and conflicted than to have that choice taken from you.” He smiles softly at you as he lets his arms drop into his lap, and for just a moment with absolute clarity you see the Exarch in him, the gentle, indomitable strength of the man he is like to become with age, albeit via a different path. “I’ve never thanked either of you properly,” he continues, oblivious to your revelation as he raises gentle viridian eyes to meet yours. “It’s my hope that one day I’ll be able to do so.” 

Ah. So that’s why the sudden gift of clothes, and the extra hat for the Exarch. More than apologies, it’s gratefulness, gestures of thanks that he does not yet know how to convey in a manner satisfying to his own high standards. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say, and dare to reach out a hand to brush his wet hair out of his face. He surprises you when he angles into your touch, and your breath leaves you in a puff as he leans forward to rest your foreheads together. 

“I’m glad to be here, too,” he murmurs, reaching up a hand to press against where yours covers his freckled cheek. You remember to breathe, and press a little closer, body heat mingling between you. It feels right, comforting, affirming, even though your heart is rabbiting in your chest.

More than ever, you feel the three of you can work this out--you just need time and patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the abrupt cutoff, this was originally a one-shot that I decided to split in two for length. Hope you're enjoying so far, and thank you for reading!


	2. ...yet your blessings outnumber the stars.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night is beginning to fall, and the beach is growing crowded in anticipation of fireworks...

When he pulls back a little and looks at you with open tenderness, your faces are so close, and as he reaches up a knuckle to sweep your hair back in turn, your heart pounds to think that he might kiss you. In the bare second that you ponder whether or not you should move in first, he has stood up, and you blink at the hand he offers to help you rise. Dazed, you take it, wondering at his calm smile. 

“Come on, we’d better get back. He’s probably still sleeping over there,” he says, and makes for the water without further ado. Flustered, you follow after. 

Despite his words he doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, and your swim back in the first rays of sunset is leisurely and tranquil--sometimes paddling next to one another, sometimes rolling onto your backs to float for a while and look to the clouds as you make your way to shore. 

As it turns out he is not sleeping when you get there, and has more fresh lemonade waiting for the both of you. He’s wearing the hat, and it makes you smile. 

“I saw you two coming back, and thought you might be thirsty,” he says genially as you both retie your pareos and sit down with him. You blush to realize that you were in sight of the shore the whole time, and you don’t know how much he saw. When you tilt your head at him he smiles knowingly, but his eyes are kind rather than teasing, which makes you blush even more. 

How much you love this dear man. 

In fact you are very thirsty, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to drain your lemonade. The sugar in it makes you endlessly thirsty for more, and so you offer to go and buy the next round, meaning to request a less sweetened version this time. You are halfway to the stall when you realize that you’ve left them alone together, and when you look back dubiously you can see that they are talking, the younger miqo’te nodding at the Exarch’s words. You are painfully curious as to what they might speak about...you didn’t see them talk very much while you were in Ala Mhigo. Well, not everything is your business, and they appear relaxed enough, so you turn back to your task of procuring refreshments. 

Once again, however, you are distracted, this time by a rough hewn stall of intricate, handmade shell jewelry. You stop to admire the clever work, a fair steep cut above the tourist trap offerings you’ve passed by so far today. A pair of lovely necklaces catches your eye--simple bands of brown, pink, and white with a slightly larger smooth, spotted junonia serving as the pendant. It reminds you of their freckles, and you are seized with a mighty need to buy one for each of them, even though the sign suggests that they’re a pair set for lovers. 

When you crack open your wallet, however, you only have enough gil on you for one. Stymied, you wonder if you should come back later with more money...but what if they sell before then? You drum your fingers against your hip in thought, then recall how G’raha brought back the hat for the Exarch, his closed off insistence that he didn’t need anything. 

Perhaps he didn’t want a gift that would match the two of you, but something else would be acceptable. After some fretting over which necklace is the best, you choose one, hand over the gil, toss the packaging in a bin and happily tuck the gift under the knot of your pareo once you’re out of sight of the shop. You can hardly go back with such an obvious box in hand, and you don’t want the crafter to see you potentially disrespecting their work. The shells jab into your side, but it’s a discomfort you’re willing to put up with. 

With no gil for further distractions, you finally return the empty glasses and procure your lightly sweetened lemonades, then head back to the beach, walking carefully so as not to spill. When you arrive however, only the Exarch is present, gazing out to sea on his own as twilight sets in. 

“Where’d he go?” you ask as he moves to take the tray, hoping to yourself that they haven’t argued or otherwise fallen out with one another. 

“Just buying something for dinner,” your love reassures as you sit down beside him and don your hat once more. 

“Ah. What did you two talk about?” you ask, unable to help yourself, and he smiles impishly.

“Perhaps you’ll learn in time,” he says airily, and you give a sigh of disappointment...but are also relieved. Whatever it was, they were fine. “Where have you been, by the way?” he asks, taking a sip of his lemonade and raising his eyebrows at the sourness. 

You ponder just saying that you were window shopping, but decide against it after some consideration. Carefully you pull the necklace out from where you’ve tucked it away, wincing at where the shells have left marks on your skin. 

“I bought this for him,” you explain, holding up the gift for the elder Seeker to admire. “I, uh, wanted to get the matching one for you too, but I didn’t have enough money,” you add, ducking your head apologetically. “I was just thinking, he’s been giving us gifts all day...and I thought to get him the hat, but he doesn’t want it, so…” You watch with bated breath as he examines your offering. If he likes it, hopefully G’raha will like it as well. 

“It’s beautiful work,” he says softly, his eyes affectionate and a little distant with an emotion that you can’t quite identify. “Ah, he’s coming, you’d best put it away,” he warns, and you quickly tuck it back against your waist. 

“Look what I got~!” he sings as he crouches down to present his purchases, and your mouth waters at the smell of the festival’s signature fried fish platter. “Had to line up for a bit, but after all that work this morning I had to try it.” 

“This morning?” you ask, confused. “I thought you were after some leves.” 

“I was,” he says as he passes out the food, “but then I saw postings for festival help and thought, now’s a perfect time to try my hand at new things! Also I wanted to get the Faire pareos, and they’re only sold to staff and volunteers,” he explains with a grin. “And now I know how to prepare this much lauded Faire fish, and if indeed it lives up to the hype I shall consider that payment in and of itself.” 

You can’t help but give a warm smile at his exuberance, your heart aching with relief that he’s showing an inclination toward optimism, that his endeavors this morning ended up being a positive experience after all. When you look to your love he is regarding the oblivious scholar with an openly touched, complicated expression, no doubt from seeing the fruits of his younger self striking out on his own path for the first time...and having a glimpse of the life he might have had for himself if he were the one you wakened from the Tower. When you reach over to squeeze his hand in support, he squeezes back. 

The food most certainly lives up to its vaunted reputation. The fish are fried to a perfect, crisp, golden brown, the meat white and flaky, the batter balanced just so with a blend of salt and pepper and something else that you can’t place--and when you ask the younger Seeker about it, he grins cheekily and refuses to tell you. The potato wedges are fluffy and equally well seasoned, and for a while there’s no talking as the three of you appreciate the simple pleasure of enjoying a meal together on the beach. 

“Mm, I almost forgot,” the scholar says, mouth still full of his last bites of fish as he turns to produce an elongated package tied up in a palm leaf. In your excitement about the food, you hadn’t even noticed that he’d bought other things. You watch as he unrolls the frond to reveal a bundle of colorful sparklers. “I used to enjoy these with my cousins on the beach in the summer, back in Ilsabard,” he explains as he unties them and splits them into three piles. “It’s been ages, thought it might be fun to try them again.” You smile as the Exarch reaches out and takes his set, turns them slowly in his hands. 

“Goodness, I’d quite forgotten about that,” he says quietly. “Shall I light them for us, then?”

The three of you scoot yourselves away from the blanket and crouch down facing one another. Your elder love produces a tiny flame. The three of you light your sparklers at once, and the way they both smile in delight as frizzles of color dance between you warms your heart immensely. Watching the variegated lights dance in their eyes, you can’t imagine any other place you’d rather be, any others that you’d rather spend the fullness of your life with. 

“Another?” you ask when the sparks die down, and when they both nod you reach for more, use your own aether to provide the fire this time. Peaceful and content, you look up to admire them once more...and notice your elder love blinking back tears, ears low and trembling. 

How poignant this must be for him, you realize with an aching heart. To be a world away from all he’s known for a century, to never see his granddaughter again, to be on holiday at the beach with you--and his liberated erstwhile younger self--enjoying sparklers as he had when he was but a boy. To be done with the cause that had claimed most of his life and to be here, just a few steps through the doorway of a new beginning. 

You aren’t surprised when a whimper escapes him, when he reaches up a hand to scrub at his eyes and hide his face. When you remember to look over to G’raha, you find him loosely covering his mouth with one hand and looking to the Exarch with a stricken expression. He cuts his eyes away to glance at you with clear contrition, then rises to his feet in a smooth movement and leaves without a word. You want to stop him, to assure him it’s not his fault, but you’ve got your hands full right now. 

“Oh, my dear one,” you croon, scooting over to press yourself to the former caretaker’s side and take his free hand as he weeps quietly. You both drop down to sit properly, and you lean against him in a silent show of encouragement, squeeze back when he holds your hand more tightly. 

“I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I’ve ruined the atmosphere. I don’t know what came over me,” he says in a watery voice once he’s calmed a bit, turning his head to bunt at yours. “The sparklers were such a lovely gesture as well.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” you say gently, and when you open your arms he moves to fill them, wraps his own arms firm around your waist and rests his head against your shoulder. There’s an odd prickling sensation to the contact, but you pay it no mind. You stay like that for a while, and eventually move a hand up to start smoothing his ears. He hums, presses his face into your neck as you continue your soothing ministrations. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you answer in kind, your heart heavy with how treasured he is to you, how bittersweet it is to watch as he adjusts to this new life at your side. 

“I was thinking about...well, about a lot of things, but to recall my family so suddenly…” he says, sensing the question in your silence, his breath puffing against your skin, tail flicking at your legs. “Sweet Azeyma, how long has it been since I spared a thought for them? For my mother, or my cousins? To think that they’re still alive, that I could see them again, I…” He stops, takes a moment to compose himself once more. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate, with him awake...they’re also his family, and how would I explain myself, how would I…?” He whimpers again, his tears sticky on your skin. You have nothing fulfilling to answer at the moment, although you’re sure there  _ is _ a way that this can be resolved somehow. You’re certainly not about to offer platitudes for such a painful dilemma, however, and so do the only thing you can--pull him closer, tell him how much you love him, that you’ll be at his side in everything as you move forward together. 

At length, he shifts and pulls back, scrubs the last of the tears away and offers you a weak, but peaceful smile. 

“Your support is much appreciated,” he murmurs. “I...I didn’t realize my troubles were weighing so heavily. There is yet much to adjust to, and I fear...I fear I may have need of your patience in the coming days,” he admits, rubbing self-consciously at his arms. Your heart twinges to have now seen that same gesture from the both of them today.

“Take your time, I’m here...and I’m not going anywhere without you ever again,” you say, and he sniffles through a chuff of bashful laughter, favors you with a genuine smile, eyes sparkling as he nods to acknowledge your feelings, leans in to bunt at your forehead. You cuddle together for a little while, uncaring who sees, your full stomachs and the events of the day lending a drowsy element to your affections. At length he pulls back with a sigh that leads into a yawn. 

“Ah gods, you’d better go after him,” he suggests with chagrin as though he’s just remembered that your third has left, resolutely scooting over to put some space between you and turning his eyes up to gaze at the emerging stars. “He probably thinks he’s done something wrong. And anyway...I’d like a moment, if you don’t mind terribly.” You nod, accustomed to his occasional requests for solitude. It is a relief to see the serenity in his eyes as he looks to the firmament, and you give his hand an extra squeeze before you rise. 

“We’ll be back in a bit,” you say softly, then head off over the sand in the direction that you saw him leave. 

As it turns out, he hasn’t gone far—you find him a little ways down the beach on the other side of the wooden walkways. The shore is growing crowded in anticipation of the upcoming fireworks, and he lingers a little further back next to a small pool of trapped water, leaning against a sizable boulder and looking out to the ocean. 

“Is he well?” he asks without preamble as you approach, and you nod.

“Mm, just overwhelmed. Thinking about his family. Well, both of your family, now,” you amend, moving to lean beside him. 

“...That mentions of home would be difficult for him never came to mind,” he says pensively, shaking his head, arms crossed as he looks over the water with narrowed eyes. “I don’t have much desire to go back myself, wasn’t ever particularly happy there...I didn’t consider that he might care to return. I suppose age and hardship changes a lot,” he says, as though he himself has not been subjected to considerable hardship. You frown, but there is little point in reminding him of his suffering. 

“Perhaps...but do try not to worry about it overmuch for now. He appreciated the gesture, truly. There’s just so much for both of you to sort...I don’t think he’d even considered about his family until you brought the sparklers,” you say gently, skin prickling again as you press into the refreshing coolness of the rock’s surface.

“Aye. Even so, I’m sorry,” he says stubbornly, and you nod, understanding that both of their feelings are quite complicated right now. 

“One day at a time,” you reply, and there’s silence for a while as you watch people laughing, singing, and talking as they make their way down toward the shore. The shells dig into your hip once more, and though you have your doubts about this being the right time, you slowly tug the necklace free of your pareo. 

“Oh, did you buy a souvenir?” he asks with mild interest as you produce the shells. “It suits you.” You blush and falter, but no turning back now.

“Er, actually, it’s for you,” you say with embarrassment, wondering if it’s not to his taste after all. He uncrosses his arms, flicks his ears with surprise.

“For me?” he asks, as though the concept is beyond belief. A group of Faire revelers giggle as they pass, and you try mightily not to show how much you know that you’re likely making a fool of yourself. 

“Yes...I just...I wanted to get you something, and you said you don’t care for the hat, and this reminded me of you, so…” you ramble, words wilting to nothing as he stares at you, then casts his eyes about the busy shore. You start when he reaches out to take your hand.

“Come with me, there’s too many people here,” he says quietly, and tugs you in the direction of the grassy slopes overlooking the beach. You follow silently, trying very hard not to feel miserable.

He either doesn’t like it, or doesn’t want it. If he wanted it, he would have taken it. You were too pushy, it was too soon, and you scrub away silent tears, grateful that he can’t see them as he leads the way. You are so tired, all of a sudden...perhaps, like your elder love, you are also carrying a heavier weight than you first thought. 

He comes to a halt just as you reach the tall, dry grass, and you school your expression to what you hope is neutral curiosity as he turns once more to face you. Now that he has you here, he doesn’t seem to know what to do--he opens his mouth to speak but words don’t come, runs a hand through his short hair, looks to the grass, tail lashing.

“It’s fine if you don’t want it,” you say, wishing you could have kept that touch of brittleness out of your voice. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot down there.” He makes a noise of distress in his throat, looks to you with grieved eyes, and, as though he expects you won’t respond, hesitantly holds out his arms. 

You are moving before you can stop yourself, and within the space of a heartbeat you are wrapped in his embrace, breathing in the smells of sweat and salt water, of ink and, somehow, campfire smoke, even though you haven’t been near a campfire in days. As before his scent summons a host of memories to the surface, and tears escape before you can blink them back. 

How you’d mourned him when he’d cast his lot with the Tower, and how this closeness reminded you afresh of that loss. 

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” he murmurs next to your ear, one arm around your waist and the other hand haltingly carding fingers into your hair. “It’s that I’m not adept at receiving gifts...never have been.” You lay your cheek against his shoulder when you realize that he’s trembling with nerves, with your closeness, and the weight of all that’s between you. “I’ve never been able to respond properly, always felt too strongly too quickly, hoped for too much from others when I had no business doing so. It’s...it’s easier to just not.” 

You think back to your time exploring the Tower together, when he confessed to you with an affected casualness that children were cruel to him growing up, that he’d never had playmates. Remembered how, left to his own devices, he would sit alone in your shared tent or at the campfire to read. How surprised he always was when you asked to join him, even after you’d been doing so for months.Gently, you move to hold him back, struck with the epiphany that because he’d always meant to give himself over to his fate one way or the other, he’d never embraced connections with others. He was destined to leave them behind, after all--if they didn’t leave him first--and the pain of hoping for more was too difficult to bear.

Gods, what it must have taken for him to come to you that night before he left and ask if you’d have him. 

“I want to give you nice things,” you say softly, and that is only the beginning of what you wish to convey, but it’s probably all he can take right now, the simplest of truths. 

“I know,” he says in a low voice, “I know. I just...I fear I can’t understand why yet, and I don’t have the fortitude at present to explain myself. I’ll...I believe I’ll get better, in time.” You close your eyes and nod. You’d never expected him to find his self worth in a week, after all...it had taken your beloved Exarch over a century, and he still relapsed from time to time. 

“Well, luckily,” you say, pulling back to look him in the face, understanding when he can’t quite meet your eyes, “It seems that time has been granted to the both of us.” At this he does look to you, a grateful smile momentarily curving his lips.

“Yes...yes, I suppose that’s true,” he says, as though remembering anew that he does have a full life ahead of him, in all the great and terrible wonder of its potential. 

“I’ll put this away for now, then,” you say, holding up the necklace, “Until such time as you’re comfortable accepting it.” You move to tuck it back into your pareo, but he reaches out a hand to gently touch your wrist. 

“Actually...uh, I’ll have it now. If...if you don’t mind,” he fumbles, and even in the moonlight you can tell he’s blushing, his tail fluffed with tension. 

“Well, it  _ is  _ meant for you,” you say, holding it back out to him with a smile, privately wondering at the acquiescence. Your heart aches at the look in his eyes when he tentatively reaches out to take the gift, the way hesitation and anxiety battle with hope and raw longing. When he fiddles with the clasp you move behind him to sort it out, his tail stiff as it brushes against your legs. He turns to you once you’ve finished, runs a hand over where the shells rest against his bare chest with a self-conscious laugh, gives a crooked smile as he glances to you and away again. 

He’s so adorable you could melt, and you want to tell him so, but know better. 

“Thank you,” he says with a fidget, ears slanted back and twitching with the gamut of emotions playing over his face. Most of all though, he looks happy, and your heart soars to see it. “If I may be so bold as to make a request,” he adds suddenly, and you look to him with surprise. 

“Of course, what is it?” He glances to the side with a bittersweet smile, then to you with shining eyes.

“You don’t...you don’t have to keep pretending that this isn’t hard on you. Running back and forth between the two of us like this, trying to keep us happy.” 

You take a breath, your heart giving an uncomfortable lurch. You’d been trying so hard to be strong for him, so preoccupied with their comfort, that you forgot once more that this man before you is part of a soul which loved you selflessly for years, who in all cases except for the day he removed himself from your life has always thought of your feelings first. 

Of course he was going to notice your troubled expressions, the tears you held back.

”I’ll be the first to admit that my knowledge of relationships is lacking,” he continues, “but seems like it would be exhausting. I...I don’t want that for you...don’t want to be that to you,” he says, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s fine if you don’t know what to do, if you make mistakes. Azeyma knows I’ve not the faintest what I’m doing right now either.” 

It’s so similar to what the Exarch said to you in Rak’tika just before you left the First, you can’t help but step forward to hug him again, his bare skin hot against yours as he holds you in return.

“Alright,” you whisper, because you don’t know what else to say...and maybe that’s fine, after all. You stand there like that for a little while, letting yourself be lulled by his steadfast heartbeat, until the heat becomes uncomfortable and the ambient noise below reminds you that your love is waiting for you at the beach, likely in increasingly crowded conditions. 

This time you reach out a hand to him, and the ease with which he laces his fingers with yours is comforting, a newfound understanding forged between the two of you that wasn’t quite there before. Together you make your way back down to the beach, full of shy smiles and the sweetness of the emotion blooming between you. 

As you approach the spot the three of you staked out on the beach, however, you sense a hesitation in his steps, note the unsure manner in which his hand begins to slip out of yours as your elder love comes into sight. You can’t blame him--this is strange territory for you as well. Just as you wonder if you should pull away in tandem to save him suffering the awkwardness alone, he rallies and steadies his grip, his expression set in stubborn resolution...though you can tell he is nervous by the way his tail bats restlessly at the back of your legs.

Your arrival finds your dear Exarch waiting cross-legged on your beach blanket with a patient smile, seemingly unbothered by the noise and increasingly raucous Faire goers. Apparently he’s already returned the umbrella--and to your surprise, he’s packed up all of your beach equipment as well. Hmm, perhaps not so unbothered after all. 

“Not in the mood for fireworks?” you ask, trying to hide your disappointment--Costa del Sol is famed for its summer display, and you’d hoped to watch it together. But then, it had been a long day for everyone, and after your swim you are well overdue for another wash. 

“I was thinking perhaps we might remove ourselves to a more private location,” he says, indicating with a flick of his ears the throngs of revelers pressing in about you. “Our cottage does face the beach, after all. We should be afforded a decent view from the veranda,” he says, with a sweeping gesture to show that he means all three of you. You look to G’raha--who is still holding your hand, you note with a flush of surprise--and although there’s a closed off element to his expression, he nods. 

It takes some doing to get back up to your cottage--most people are heading down to the shore, and the three of you are working your way against the crowd with beach gear in tow. When the former caretaker finally manages to unlock the door, you pile inside with a sigh of relief, enjoying the muffled, blessed quiet. As you put your things down your love turns up the lights with a flick of aether...and looks at the two of you with an audible gasp.

“Oh dear,” he murmurs, covering his mouth. Eyes wide, you cast about to see what could be amiss, and when you look behind you to the younger Seeker, you also gasp. 

In all the comings and goings of the day, not a one of you remembered to apply sunscreen, and it shows. Very much. No wonder you’ve felt so hazy and prickly all evening. The idea of a wash becomes far less attractive all of a sudden. The Exarch fares a bit better for having changed out of his swimwear earlier in the day, but that’s not saying much...and poor G’raha nearly completely matches his hair. 

_ So much for any romantic snuggling tonight _ , you think with a sigh.

“Ahaha, it’s been so long since I’ve been out like this, I rather forgot that my complexion is not particularly hardy against sunlight,” the elder Seeker says with a rueful laugh, examining how the freckles on his arms have blended in with his new, unfortunate condition. 

“...I fear I must admit to the same,” the scholar says, wincing as he stands with his arms gingerly held away from his sides. You are almost mirroring his position—there’s something about seeing your burnt skin in the light that makes you feel even more prickly and uncomfortable.. 

After some discussion in which you can all only laugh at your foolishness, your love heals the lot of you enough to soothe the worst of the sting—any more than that and you’d be too sleepy to stay up for the show, worn as you all are. You raise your eyebrows when G’raha pokes experimentally at his slightly less reddened skin with a wince.

“Will you stop that,” the Exarch chides with a huff. “I told you it wouldn’t—ow!” he exclaims, ears pinning as his younger self sees fit to press a finger to the stinging skin of his forearm. “What was that for?” 

“Just checking if yours still hurts too,” the scholar replies innocently. 

“Of course it still hurts, why would…” your love trails off as he takes in the mischievous glint in G’raha’s narrowed eyes, and you take a step back from them when the elder miqo'te squints back with the exact same expression. “You may find paybacks to be difficult, my friend,” he says, and you’ve never heard him use that particular tone of quiet menace. The scholar favors him with a look of bland disbelief, which your love responds to with a sweet smile.

Hopefully they leave you out of it, whatever they get up to. 

Despite his blase air of confidence, apparently G’raha is not feeling particularly courageous about his chances, and elects to return to his own cottage to wash up. You wince and gasp your way through your own ablutions, thank yourself for thinking to pack your loose, comfy pajamas. You are surprised to find them both waiting for you in the sitting room when you finish, the Exarch in a simple dark blue cotton pajama set that accentuates his silvered hair beautifully, and your dear scholar--still wearing your necklace!-- in a fitted green shirt with a sun motif and a pair of shorts that make you double take with how much leg he’s showing. Not that you’re complaining, and anyway you can understand the wish to have as little as possible brushing up against your skin at the moment. 

The first firework explodes and blossoms cerulean in the night sky as you make your way out to the veranda swing, and you all stop to admire a few more bursts of color before gingerly settling onto the palm-printed cushions, the Exarch at your left and G’raha on the right. It’s a tighter fit than is strictly comfortable, especially at the moment, but after some shuffling and shifting you manage. Their warmth pressed against you is a dull ache in your skin, but heavy with love and pleasantly tired from a day well spent, your soul appreciates the juxtaposition of sensations. 

The three of you sit in silence, enjoying the show, and from the pensive expressions on their faces when you chance to look, you are all reflecting on what has brought you to this moment, and what you will do from here on out. You are seized with a notion that you would like to return with them to see this next year, to be able to look on these fireworks once more with a year of togetherness under your belts, to muse upon where you were when you first saw them and how far you’ve come since then. Just imagining the scene makes you very much look forward to what the upcoming year will bring.

“I have something for you,” your elder love says eventually, breaking you out of your reverie as multi-colored lights erupt across the sky to the distant cheers of those gathered on the shore. You look to him, heart giving a little flutter of surprise even as you wonder at the timing, the scholar tensing ever so slightly beside you. You both watch as he fumbles with reaching into the side pocket of his pajama pants...and a shaky breath leaves you as he produces the shell necklace that you’d been forced to leave behind. “This is the one, isn’t it?” he asks, but obviously he already knows the answer. 

You sit up a little straighter, enraptured with the gentle wisdom in his expression as he brushes your hair back and latches the clasp at the back of your neck.

You can feel the impression of every single shell against your heated skin.

Your lips part around another breath as he leans back to admire his clever handiwork, looks into both of your eyes in turn with a peaceful, genuine smile. “Now you match! It suits you both very well,” he says earnestly. 

When you look to G’raha, you find him pressing a slightly trembling hand over his own speckled shell, lips parted just as yours are and ears canted back, eyes wide and shining as he looks to his elder self.

That a blessing has been given is unmistakable. 

The younger miqo’te looks to you, back to the Exarch, and then down to where his hand curls tenderly around the junonia pendant, now a gift twice granted. When his eyes meet yours once more, they are full of hopeful joy, a smile wobbling on his lips...and then, with a happy chuff, he flops back and leans over to rest his head on your shoulder. 

It stings like hell, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world. 

The elder miqo’te chuckles beside you, and when you look to him the weighted love in his eyes coupled with the sharp satisfaction of a plan gone well is absolutely enchanting. You are struck once more with the scope of his empathy, of his talent and experience. How gracefully diplomatic he is, that he has managed to convey such complicated, fraught intent with such a simple gesture. 

Anyway, you think as he leans over to brush a kiss against your lips, it’s not as though he has anything to worry about. He has you and he knows it. You sigh as he shifts against you, tucks his head against your shoulder as well. 

An explosion of fireworks thunders in your chest, and a brilliant kaleidoscope of reflected color plays across the three of you--as it will this time each year, for many years to come. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expected to write about these guys again eventually...never thought inspiration would strike so soon! It's definitely a complicated relationship, but I'm glad they've made some progress here. It looks like I'll be returning to this from time to time, so I've started a series for "Two of Them". 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, hope you enjoyed this follow-up story! If you did like it, please consider letting me know one way or another--comments and kudos are writer fuel and much appreciated! 
> 
> You can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens if you like :D


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